


Queen of the Pacific

by mouridrakon



Series: Ocean Fire [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29057364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouridrakon/pseuds/mouridrakon
Summary: Pirate Queen Diata comes face to face with the knowledge that the reality she knew isn't all there is to the world when her best friend asks for her help - to rescue a gods damned Mermaid. Rafael, what are you dragging her into?
Series: Ocean Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131818
Kudos: 2





	Queen of the Pacific

##  Chapter 1: Port Town

_ Diata _

“Cap, we got word from the Spanish fleet,” my third said, popping her head of curls into my dim cabin. With a wave from my hand, she came all the way inside.

“What’s the word, Tal?” I asked, setting down my compass and making a note of our course by the light of mage’s fire.

“Meetin’ of the pirate lords,” Tal replied, coming up to my desk and holding out the letter.

With a snort, I took the letter from her and unfolded the parchment. Raf’s handwriting met my eyes and I quickly glanced over the message. Something about Sultan Marid hosting… something I must see? My cup of tea?

Knowing the Sultan… slave girls. Raf wouldn’t send a message like that without a reason.

Setting the letter down, I turned back to the map. The Sultan’s port was a week or two away, depending on the weather. We’d be cutting it close. Muttering about last-minute meetings, I stood and grabbed my tricorn. I earned the damned thing and I wasn’t about to walk around without it after all that.

“Seems we’re going to Port Annissa,” I told her, striding around the side of my desk. “Time to change course.”

Tal followed me as I strode from my cabin and climbed the stairs up to the helm. One of the younger lasses stood there, her fingers laced with the Nav, the lay lines flowing around her fingers and the ocean’s current twining through her fingers. My Quartermaster stood at her side, instructing her on how to navigate with the device. The night air blew steadily around us as the moon and stars lit our path.

“Change of course, Allaea,” I told the tall brunette. “We’re heading towards Port Annissa – south by south-east.” I glanced behind me to Tal, who stood ready to receive orders. “Drop the colors, Tal, and fly the red and white.”

With a grin, Tal spun and hopped down the stairs, heading to the mainmast. As she went to complete her task, I turned back to Allaea, who even now was instructing the girl on turning the ship and navigating our new course.

“Allaea,” I said her name to catch her attention, knowing full well she took information in differently. The Quartermaster lifted her head, brushing a few strands of amber hair from her face.

“Yes, Cap?” she asked, brown eyes looking at me expectantly.

“How’s she doing?” I asked, nodding towards her student.

A bright, wide smile split Allaea’s face as she straightened. “Cap, she’s a natural. A born Navi. Couldn’t find a better one.”

“Good,” I said, then turned to the girl. “Britt, wasn’t it?” At her nod, I continued. “Learn all you can from Allaea. If she says you’ve got talent, then you’ve got talent. You won’t have to worry about a thing. Yeah?”

She nodded again, her wide eyes staring up at me with what could only be described as savior worship.

Which was warranted, but always made me uncomfortable.

“Keep up the good work,” I told the two, turning. Returning to my cabin, I picked up the note again and sat in my chair, rooting around in the drawers till I found the dull stone in the back of a drawer. I held the stone up to the back of the parchment and muttered the command word, activating the spell.

White letters appeared on the back of the parchment in Rafael’s scrawl, clearly written faster than the rest of the note. Frowning, I examined the letters and muttered again. Code.

Damnit, Raf, I thought I told you not to bother-

Again, I rooted around in my drawers until I found the small notebook Rafael insisted I take with me the last time I saw him. In it was the key to figuring out the code. I flipped to the right page and began the unnecessary process of deciphering his scrawl.

“D…A… N…G…E…R…” I muttered under my breath as I wrote down the deciphered letters. “N… wait not, that s a T…R…A…P… No shit, Raf… M…A…R…I…D…” With a harumph, I shoved the stone and the notebook in separate drawers, shutting the drawers with a loud, annoyed thump. “Coulda figured that out on my own, thanks. Man, fucker treats me like his wife. Or sister. I don’t know which one would be worse.”

Grumbling to myself, I dropped my tricorn hat on the desk and stood, stretching, my fingers scraping the wood of the ceiling. A groan came from my lips as I felt my back pop. Glancing to the stern, where the windows of my cabin showed the dark of the ocean outside, I studied my figure.

A long scar ran from my jawline down my neck, to just over my bosom. It stood out white against my dark skin. Dark curls braided with beads, shells, and gold bangles framed my black eyes and hung half-way down my back. My off-white blouse hung loosely from my shoulders, my bosom filling it out rather nicely – at least in my opinion – and contrasted nicely with the dark trousers and boots I favored. Belted over the trousers, my prized saber always stayed at my hip. I had other weapons hidden all over my body, of course. Mostly daggers. I kept a few magic stones in protected pouches on my belt.

Other than the obvious scar on my neck, the less obvious scars along my back told the tale of my childhood and early years. Years that shaped my present.

Shaking off the memories, I strode to my hammock, stripping off most of my weapons as I went. I still kept daggers under my pillow, and another strapped to my thigh should I need it in a pinch – but sleeping with a saber wasn’t the best idea.

Dropping my boots beside the hammock, I shimmied out of my trousers and lifted my blanket. With a little bit of alacrity, I managed to climb into my hammock and settle into my blanket without spilling back onto the floor. Sometimes I regretted my choice to forgo an actual bed, but it really wasn’t fair to the crew.

For now, sleep beckoned, and dreams of the revolution were soon to follow.

\--

Pulling into port, I made sure my Quatermaster navigated the ship through the maze of docks. I didn’t need our first appearance in Annissa after months to begin with crashing into another ship - or the dock itself.

The lasses moved quickly, tossing ropes to those who hopped down to the dock. Once the ropes were tied off and the ship secured, the gangplank thunked into place on the planks of the dock. 

“All set, Cap!” one of the lasses called out from the main deck. 

With a nod, I called all the lasses attention, motioning them forward. Tal stood by the ship’s wage chest with a checklist in front of her. 

“Form up, lasses,” Tal called, “orderly-like, yeah? No shovin’ or pushin’ or I’ll take a shilling from yer wage.”

Though it was the normal threat, the lasses knew better and formed an orderly line, letting the youngest of the crew go first. Each hand received their expected wage and a small bonus on top. Leaning against the nearby rail, I watched the proceedings, nodding to each hand as they left the ship with their wages and a wide grin. Most would be back, I knew; a few would find a bed partner and disappear. 

I never demanded my people return; they weren’t slaves or servants. They were my crew and free to come and go as the tide. Most of them could defend themselves now; the few that couldn’t knew to stay close to more experienced crewmembers. Even now, after she’d received her wages, the young Navi stuck close to my Quartermaster. With a shake of my head, the beads clinking in my braids, I turned from the sight to glance to the docks. A few lasses were chatting excitedly with some lads from other ships and I chuckled. 

It was good for the crew to have shore time. 

“Where’s the Captain?” came a gruff voice from the dock, right beside the ship’s gangplank. 

Glancing down, I caught sight of the dock master and one of his people acousting two of my crew. The younger of the crew hands drew back from the two men, still unused to standing up for herself, while the senior crew hand puffed up her chest, grinned, and jabbed a finger up the gangplank.

“On deck,” the crew hand said. The dock master - a short, pudgy man in too-fine clothing - scoffed at her and turned, pushing past her and up the gangplank. His subordinate followed, mouthing a  _ thank you _ to the women.

I crossed my arms and sighed. Shoving my hip against the rail, I adjusted my tricorn and waited, my eyes narrowed. If they didn’t ask permission-

The dock master stepped from the gangplank to the ship’s deck, his boots clunking down on the planks of my ship without so much as a  _ by your leave _ . His subordinate was a little more considerate, staying on the gangplank and glancing around for me.

“Sir, there’s the Captain,” the young man said, pointing in my direction. He still hadn’t set foot on my ship, meaning someone had at least attempted to train him.

“Ah, good,” the dock master said as he puffed up his chest, adjusted his hat, and started towards me.

Five of the lasses blocked his way, crossing their arms over their chests or putting hands on hips. I couldn’t see their faces, but from the look on the dock master’s, they did not try to look friendly.

But he wasn’t backing down.

“Excuse me! I have business with your captain!” he squawked.

“This interloper thinks he can just waltz up to Cap!” one of the lasses laughed, slapping the shoulder of the lass next to her. 

“Careful, Charlie, you might wound his fragile pride,” another said.

“Excuse-!”

“You shoulda asked fer that ‘afore ya set yer dirty boots on da Kahina…” one of the lasses snorted out, squaring her shoulders.

“What? Ask permission  _ from women _ ?” the dock master let out a laugh, sneering at the women. “You’re lucky anyone lets you dock-”

“Alright, dat’s it-”

Well, looks like it’s time to step in-

Holding back a sigh, I tip back my head and laugh, loud enough to stop my crew and the dock master in their tracks.

“Thanks for the show, lad,” I said, raising my voice just enough for the dock master to hear me. “Go on, I’ve got it from here. Enjoy your shore leave.”

The lasses grumbled, glancing to the dock master, before nodding and walking past him and his subordinate. The dock master sneered at them before turning back and adjusting his jacket. 

“Now then-”

“Before we get to business, I believe you have something to apologize for.” My eyes glanced to the subordinate, who still refused to come on deck. “You, lad. You have something to say?”

The subordinate jolted and stood up straighter. “Ah- yes, Captain - permission to come aboard?”

I smiled at him and nodded. “Permission granted, lad.” Then my eyes shifted to his master, as the lad cautiously stepped aboard, and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Well what?” When I remained silent, unmoving from my spot, he sneered again and said, “Docking the ship is four-”

“Get off my ship.” I pushed off of the rail and turned from the dock master. “You do not have permission to be aboard. Leave. I’ll deal with the lad instead.”

The dock master sputtered and gaped at me even as I moved away. “You can’t just-”

“Sir, she’s the Captain, she most certainly can kick you off the ship,” I heard the lad tell his master in a hushed voice. “You didn’t follow proper protocol-”

“Protocol with a  _ woman _ is wasted-”

“She’s the  _ Queen of the Pacific _ , do you really want to piss her off?” the lad asked.

The dock master growled out something about cunts not knowing their place.

_ That _ was certainly a mistake. Every crew hand still aboard turned to him, pulling out whatever weapon was at hand. Swords, pistols, a club - even a few casters pointed to him. 

Slowly, I turned to look over my shoulder at the dock master, not even bothering to fully face him.

“This is your last warning. Get off my ship. You are unwelcome,” I said, my voice calm and even. The mechanical clunk a gun cocking sounded, adding emphasis to my words. 

The dock master jolted and took a step back. His subordinate snagged the clipboard from him and gently pushed him to the gangplank, telling him that he’d handle it. After what seemed like too long, the dock master finally left, retreating down the gangplank. Once he was out of sight, weapons disappeared and the crew returned to what they’d been doing - either getting wages, stowing ropes, carrying crates of goods. 

With a shake of my head, I slowly turned to the lad, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got good sense, lad. I pity your choice in master, though.”

The lad shrugged. “My apprenticeship doesn’t last much longer.”

I snorted. “Might be over sooner than you think.”

The lad let out a sigh and a shake of his head. “I had a feeling you’d say that… but about the docking fee…”

With a nod, I pulled out three coins from the pouch in my bosom. “It was three shillings last time. Still the same?”

“Yes, Captain,” the lad said with a bob of his head, pointedly  _ not _ staring at my breasts. He quickly made a few notes on the clipboard and held out his hand for the coins. I dropped the coins in his hand and smiled, then tipped my chin towards the gangplank.

“Off with you now. Make sure you keep that level of respect for the others, yeah? It’ll do you well in the future.”

The lad flushed and grinned, “Yes, Captain!” He secured the coins in the pouch on his hip, tipped his head in acknowledgement, then quickly left the ship.

“Whatcha gonna do about the other one?” Tal asked as she shut the crew wages chest, locking it tight before handing the ring of keys back to me. 

“Sack him, what else?” I said with a smirk as I snapped the key ring back in place at my hip. “Marid may not like me much, but he knows not to piss me off… and this is his port. I’ll suggest the lad get the job, he’s got far more sense in his head.”

Tal laughed, then hefted the chest onto her shoulder. “Sounds like a plan. You heading off then?”

“If I’m going to make that meeting, yes…” I replied with a groan. “Something about Raf’s message has me on edge, though.”

Speaking of the Admiral practically summoned the dark-haired Spainard to my ship. “Permission to come aboard, Captain!” came his far-too-chipper voice. 

Suppressing a sigh, I turned and frowned at him. Rafael hadn’t changed much - the same trim goatee, the same laugh-lines around his mouth and eyes, the same dark blue uniform-like attire. Even after years of knowing the man, his broad shoulders still strained his jacket. Atop his tied-back hair sat the black tricorn with the silver trim - his signature hat. Anyone who saw that hat knew he was  _ The Admiral _ and got out of his way. Our eyes met and his normal, easy smile spread his lips, revealing rows of slightly off-white teeth, discolored by years of smoking. 

With a shake of my head and a tip of my own tricorn, I replied, “Permission granted, Admiral.”

His boots thunked onto the deck as he hopped off the gangplank and strode over to me, holding out his hand. I grabbed his arm and we met for a brief hug, thumping each other on the back before parting.

“Welcome back to shore, Cap,” Rafael chuckled, then nodded towards the docks. “Ready to see the rest of the council?”

“Not particularly,” I muttered, twisting my lips into a slight scowl. “But if there really is something I have to see… then let’s get going.”

Raf nodded and motioned me to precede him, down the gangplank and onto the docks. With a sigh, I adjusted my tricorn and headed towards the gangplank. 

“Captain!” came a call from behind me. I turned, seeing one of the younger lasses running up. She had a long tailed coat in her hands and she thrust it at me. “Captain, I made this for you - uhm, a-a-as a thank you… f-f-f-fer savin me…”

With a smile, I pat her head once and took the offered coat. I held it up, letting it open naturally and looked it over. The shoulder area actually looked wide enough - surprisingly - and the coat fell long enough to look right. The silver trim emphasized the cut and the dark fabric of the coat, giving it greater depth. All in all, it was a beautiful coat - and it would probably cost quite a penny if sold in a shop.

“I-... I thought you might… wear it…” her voice lowered as she fidgeted, looking down to her boots, “a-a-at… the… the meeting…”

I repressed a chuckle, knowing she might take it wrong, and instead smiled wider. “I love it. I’ll definitely wear it today.”

The lass beamed, her eyes widening and her smile reaching her ears. “R-Really?”

“Yup. Can I try it on now?” At her nod, I handed my tricorn to her and slid into the coat, rolling my shoulders to settle the shoulder seam in place. I smoothed out the fabric and took the tricorn back. After settling my tricorn back in place, I grinned at her. “Well? How do I look?”

The lass blushed, her grin widening further. “I-it looks perfect, Cap!”

“It definitely does, yeah,” Raf offered, grinning as he leaned against the railing by the gangplank. “Might even make Judai shut up about you not lookin like one of us.”

I snorted at that, shaking my head. I offered the lass another smile and thanked her, before turning and heading past Rafael, down the gangplank. “Judai will never shut up. That’s his special power. He can casually insult anyone into the afterlife.”

The Admiral let out a guffaw as he followed behind me. I sensed his quick approach when we started down the docks towards the shore, right before he thumped me on the shoulder. Hanging off me like a drunkard, Rafael expounded on his many adventures this visit to shore.

“And there’s this one lad, pert little ass with the cutest smile - oh he could blush red as a rose when you winked at him! That innocent face won me over, I tell you…and those eyes! Ah, they shine like the night sea with a full sky of stars. I’ve got a date with him later tonight at the Crooked Crow, after everything with the council,” Raf said with a dreamy sigh. 

“This one  _ does _ know you’re a pirate, right?” I asked with a chuckle, suppressing the need to roll my eyes. Rafael always did this; fell for a pretty face and was just as heartbroken as they when he had to leave shore.

“Weeeeell…” Raf offered a shrug, glancing to the side and waving at a few lasses who greeted him by name. “Not  _ exactly _ …” he finished with a slight, apologetic smile.

I let out a sigh, giving Rafael a hard stare from the side. “Raf. You can’t keep this up. I heard what happened the last time you left heartbroken. Your crew almost munitied because you tried to  _ hang yourself _ off the bowspirit.”

“That… may have been an overreaction,” Raf admitted with a little shrug, finally getting off my shoulders. “I was just…”

“Heartbroken,” I filled in for him when he didn’t finish. “What was her name that time? Miriana? Miranda?”

“Miranda,” he answered, rubbing at his neck. “She was a lovely little bird, wasn’t she, though?”

“I hardly remember,” I lied, frowning at him. Of course I remembered the woman who broke off their engagement because _ her father _ wanted her to marry a legitimate man. When she was shipped off to Madrid to meet her new husband, I made sure to accoust the ship, ‘rescue’ her and the other women aboard, and sink the vessel. After, of course, taking whatever valuables they had aboard. 

“Yeah… she probably forgot about me…” Raf sighed, his lips twisting into a sad smile. “But that’s okay! Because forgetting about me means she can move on with her life without pining after something she can’t have!”

While it was true that Miranda wasn’t pining, she hadn’t forgotten. I installed her at a port in my territory, as one of the city leaders. She was a smart girl and knew how to get things done. When last we’d spoken, she told me how grateful she was that I hadn’t just taken her to Rafael or Madrid or her father - that she was living happier without a husband foisted upon her or one of opportunity. She was engaged to one of the militiamen and head over heels for the lad.

“Right, well, that means you don’t have to think about her. So what’s the name of the new one, hmm?” I asked, doing my best to steer the conversation away from her as we headed through the port town.

“Oh, right, yes! His name is Afif! Affif Karim,” Rafael replied, brightening almost immediately. “He’s absolutely beautiful, with skin as soft as cream. Voice like an angel, really! He sings to me, every night I can spend with him.”

I made a noise of acknowledgement and nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds educated.” Especially with a family name. Not a lot of people around here have one.

“Oh, he is, he’s the tenth son of the Karim family,” Rafael confirmed, putting his hands behind his back with a big smile on his lips. “Since he’s the tenth in line, he doesn’t have a lot of prospects. He wants to come with me when I set sail…”

“I thought you hadn’t told him you were a pirate?” I asked, tilting my head. 

“Oh, well… no, I haven’t,” he replied sheepishly, his broad shoulders shrugging.

“Raf. What did you tell the poor lamb?”

Rafael kicked absently at a stone as he walked, spending several moments in silence. I let him stew, my frown deepening.

“I… told him I was a sailor…” Rafael finally said, turning to look into a shop window as we passed.

That let him see my thunderous look, the clench of my jaw, the narrowed eyes, the disapproving frown, and my arms crossed over my chest. He jolted at the look and pointedly did not face me. 

“It’s not a lie!” he whined, trying to defend himself.

“It’s a half truth at best,” I growled out. “You tell that boy tonight that you’re a gods damned pirate, Raf, or I’ll find him and do it myself. You keep doing this and  _ no one _ is going to want to do any kind of business with you.”

“Keep doing what?” he asked, turning wide, innocent eyes to me. 

“Lying. Breaking hearts of  _ merchants _ and  _ wealthy _ people or their children. You’re making enemies left and right every time you do and the rest of us have to clean up your mess or deal with the consequences,” I muttered darkly, then widened my stride. “Come on. If we’re late to this stupid council meeting, neither of us will  _ ever _ hear the end of it from Judai or that French fop - what was his name again?”

“You know, every time you forget Le Blanc’s name, he just gets more irritated with you,” Rafael said, catching up - and visibly glad for the change of subject. 

“Let him be irritated, he’s the one who’s letting it affect his work,” I snorted, turning the corner. Just down the way squatted Sultan Marid’s sparkling, indulgent, and opulent palace. This close to the coast, the excessive use of water fountains wasn’t as bad as I knew some of his other residences were, but it was still a show of wealth and power.

“This place never fails to make my skin crawl,” I muttered to Raf as we passed through the front gates. The Sultan’s guards eyed the two of us, but we were expected and they did not hinder our way.

“Well, try not to make a scene in the first five minutes,” Raf said with a chuckle as he adjusted his tricorn and jacket. Once he was satisfied, he led the way through the palace until we got to the council room, where two guards stood on either side of the doorway. The guards snapped to attention and opened the doors for us.

“Ahs, finally, look who decides to show,” came the heavy french accent of Marquis Oriel Blanc. The blond Frenchman dressed in pastels and creams sat cross legged on a comfortable chair, a small table to his right laden with fruits, cheeses, bread, and drink. 

No, I didn’t forget his name, but it was just endlessly entertaining to make him think so.

“Now, now, Le Blanc,” came the smooth, high-society tone of Father Judai, “some people just don’t have a sense of time or respect for the time of others. Or a sense of decorum.”

The Father sat two seats to the left of Le Blanc in the circle of six chairs. His usual black, flowing pastoral vestments and clerical cravat without a wrinkle to be seen. Not that he was a real priest.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I smiled instead and turned slowly towards the Sultan. “Sultan Marid, I’m so pleased you could host this meeting.”

The Sultan - a tall man with reflexes like a viper and shrewdness of a spider - smiled easily and motioned towards the empty chairs around the room. “Queen Diata, your presence is most welcome. I feared you wouldn’t be able to show. We could not get word to you.”

“Not to worry, Marid, I took care of that, though we seem to be missing one anyway,” the Admiral said with a smirk as he took one of the seats. I took the other, my eyes glancing towards the other two pirate captains in the room. “But Marid, I heard an interesting rumor recently… something about you fishing a treasure out of the ocean?”

“Admiral… you should know better than to listen to rumors,” the Sultan purred out, though his smile did not falter, “but in this case… well, I suppose you should.”

“Don’t tell me this  _ treasure _ is the reason you called us here?” Le Blanc sneered, narrowing his eyes at Marid. “I have no patience for such things. I do not care for your flaunting-”

“Ah, so when you’re peacocking about the ocean, it’s fine?” Father Judai asked, sitting back in his chair and tilting his head at Le Blanc. 

“Peacocking?!” Le Blanc sputtered, shooting forward. “I’ll have you know, I do no such thing!”

“Ack, you two numbskulls arguing already?” came the heavy drawl of Clyde Rackman as the tall, broad man strode inside. The short cropped hair and the trim beard showed the scars littering his head and neck. “If those two are just gonna argue, I’m leavin. I got better things to do than listen to that.”

The Sultan, I noted, clenched his jaw and slowly released it. Marid and Clyde did  _ not _ get along. I was willing to bet Marid purposefully did not inform Clyde of this meeting.

Nevertheless, the Sultan was a picture of the perfect host. “Clyde. So glad you could make it. Please, have a seat.”

The Bloody Yankee strode inside the room and took the last seat, not bothering to hide his sneer at Le Blanc or Judai.

“So what’s this about, eh?” Clyde drawled.

“I was just getting to that,” the Sultan said, his smile settling back into place. “There’s been rumors going around for a few decades, maybe centuries… and with my catch a month ago, I proved it all right.”

“What rumor?” Le Blanc muttered, frowning at the Sultan.

“Mermaids.”

Silence fell on the room and I could almost feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head. Within one moment and the next, the room devolved into chaos. Le Blanc blatantly laughed in the Sultan’s face, his laughter a full bellyaching guffaw. Father Judai jumped from his seat and demanded to know if the Sultan was insulting their intelligence, drunk, high, or all three. Clyde let out a groan and stood, loudly proclaiming, again, that he had other things to spend his time on.

Raf, however, met my eyes and mouthed, “This.”

Great.

Just great.

The Sultan had kidnapped a gods damned  _ mermaid _ and Raf, from the puppy-dog look in his eyes, wanted my help to save her.


End file.
